take it out on me
by queen-of-anarchy
Summary: i wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name. / erik&charles


The coin swirled in his fingers, as if the magnetic field to it could be wielded like a stream of water. That's exactly what Erik Lehnsherr did while looking around the Xavier Manor in awe, the library itself only had a few over five very important and very ancient artifacts. The sky outside was a gray and cold as the coin being bended between his fingers like magic, so they had no practice that day. Erik could almost hear the conversation between the thin walls of the library, he could hear Raven and Hank talk about something involving and discussing something teenagers dealt with now a days, he could hear Sean's soft snores and Alex's constant complaining of them and walking even more so down the hallway, he could hear Moira arguing over the phone with another CIA agent.

Tired, honestly tired of all the nonsense, the mundane scene of it all, he decides to go towards Charles' study, where he knows the drinks are; the mini-fridge where it all is. Entering the study, he notices how the metal biding of the mini fridge shines for him, as if waiting for him. He looks around and notices something he never did before; the handmade portraits of what appeared to be Mr. & Mrs. Xavier; Charles' parents. Slowly passing his fingers through the metallic gold frame that held Mrs. Xavier's portrait, pain gripped Erik's chest, being reminded of his own mother.

His mother; who sang him a German lullaby every night before the war, his mother, who use to have him a nice hot bowl of soup in his house every day from school. His mother, who slowly started to loss her natural beauty, as her light brown hair slowly became a darker shade due to lack of cleansing, his mother, whose face went to beautiful, to almost corpse like, her structure slowly turning into bones, her once vibrant blue eyes slowly becoming less vibrant and more dull, more pain-filled.

Trying to fight the lingering feelings away, Erik rapidly yanked open the mini fridge and took the Scotch glass bottle within his hands, he took a glass and poured ice. He closed his eyes; the ice was crystalline blue, a blue that reminded him of Charles' eyes, eyes that held so much compassion, so much innocence, it made Erik envy him. Charles had no idea how much pain the human race can cause, the ignorance, the arrogance of it, yet Erik admired him for it, for his hope.

Pouring strong Scotch down the glass, he automatically placed the icy glass between his lips. It was like fire running down his throat, making him feel complete, at peace; it made him feel whole. Erik knew drinking your problems wouldn't make them go away, but screw it; he's been doing it for plenty of time and its function him properly. Feeling nothing but more pain and agony, he throws the glass into the floor, shattering into a tiny million pieces, he can't feel anything anymore. He truly is Frankenstein's monster and he couldn't wait to destroy his creator.

*.*.*

The screams echoed throughout the concentration camps, yells of 'please help me' haunt him to this very day. He feels degraded right now. He's just a boy, yet there forcing him to walk naked with the other Jewish people, in the goddamn bloody rain, his feet are muddy; they are lacking cleansing, like his soul. He feels the tears weld up in his eyes, one of Dr. Schmidt's guards hits him rather hard against the head with his rifle. _The superior race does not cry, Erik. _Dr. Schmidtconstantly tells him. The guards take him by his thin structured arms and take him to the doctor. They lay him on a metallic bed, naked, the cold contrasting with his aching back, it was painful. Dr. Schmidt comes in, gloves in hand, he tries to run away but notices his arms and legs strapped by leather against the bed. He places a knife against his skin. _This it'll only hurt a bit, son. _Dr. Schmidt always said after slowly gliding the knife across his chest—

With a gasp, Erik woke up in the darkness of the room. Surrounded by nothing but the sheets, which were being clutched by his fists, he feels sweat, damp in his forehead, his hair tussled, he runs his hands through it, clenching his teeth tight, he closes his eyes and tries to make it all go away.

_Erik?—Erik, are you alright? _He hears Charles' in his head. Sudden anger burst through him. How dare he invade his mind and privacy like that? Anger coils within him. Charles' burst into the room, with his red lips parted, his hair ruffled around and his white pasty skin rimming with sweat, the innocence in his bright blue eyes kills him, it kills Erik. He stands up, pushes Charles against the wall, holding his wrists hard and firm, closing the door with his mind, Charles stairs at Erik's blue-grey eyes. So much hurt, so much pain.

_Hit me, Erik._ He hears in his mind, Charles looks so innocent between him and the wall, he blinks at his accusation. _Take your anger out on me, my friend, it's not healthy to let it all in. _Erik slowly pulls up his fist, Charles winces, yet closes his eyes. _Do it, Erik._

Instead of the punch Charles expects, he feels the hot feeling of Erik lips against his, tongue sliding between his lips, Erik fingers are digging in his hips and quite honestly, Charles has never felt anything like it. Erik bites his lower lips and Charles can't help but whimper at the feel, at the taste of sudden blood begin drawn out of his swollen lip. He was so angry, so dominant, that Charles couldn't do anything than let himself be controlled by Erik. He starts to swirls his fingers in Charles long hair and starts to yank at it, pushing him towards Erik. The need for releasing his anger was so needful, so necessary, that he couldn't help but hurt Charles.

"Erik—" He hears Charles moan as he starts to suck on his throat, when he feels Charles hands on his back, practically scratching him. _Let it all out, Erik, hurt me_. Charles keeps telling him, urging him. But when Erik tastes the blood from his lips, he automatically pushes back. He stares at Charles in horror; his red lips, swollen and bloody, his shirt almost clawed out and his hair all tussled and sweated. _I really am a monster._ He tells himself, he stares at his hands, the horror on his face concerns Charles.

"I—I am so sorry, Charles…" He says, but the damage was done. What good was it taking his anger out on Charles who was nothing but innocent? Was he any better than the Nazi's? Than Shaw?

Than himself?

"Don't apologize, my friend." He says, nonchalantly, he straightens out his clothes and hair and tries to dry the blood from his lips, the metal taste of him reminds him of Erik; raw and passionate. He sits on the edge of the ridiculously large bed and Erik is standing opposite him, leaning against the dresser and the mirror. Erik finds his feet far more interesting than the look Charles is giving him at the moment.

_Why don't you look at me? _He asks him. Erik looks at him, in desperation. As if he didn't know the answer himself, because his emotions were as vacant and hollow as himself.

"Why are you here?" Why did you come?" Erik asks, changing the subject, he sees Charles smile, then, as if he noticed it was inappropriate or he simply smiled out of nervousness, Charles lips were a thin line.

"I felt you," He says, blue eyes searching blue-grey ones. "I saw your dreams, your memories. God, Erik, they are truly horrifying." He says as he stands up and slowly starts unbuttoning Erik's shirt, without a protest he continues until the shirt is on the floor, Charles runs his hands down a fraction of what appeared to be multiple scars on his chest, all memories of his stolen childhood. "You truly are strong, Erik, one of the strongest men I've ever encountered." He continues patronizing him as his hands continue down from his chest to his ribcage. "To endure all of the pain you did and still manage to smile, truly you are exceptional, my friend, truly brilliant."

It's not until Charles wipes his cheek that Erik notices he's crying, the tears are hot and they feel as if he's let them all in all his life. Charles kisses his forehead and smiles at Erik.

_Don't be afraid to let it out_, _Erik_. He says_. I'm always here for you. _

_That's what worries me. _Erik says finally going to sleep and swooshing Charles out.


End file.
